


What Are Men, to Rocks and Mountains?

by milou407



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, Artist Grantaire, Enjolras Is Bad At Feelings, F/M, Grantaire & Éponine Thénardier Friendship, M/M, Pride and Prejudice References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-07-28 10:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7637095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milou407/pseuds/milou407
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As first impressions went, it was certainly miraculous. However, once one looked closer, they could begin to see faults in the façade which comprised Monsieur Enjolras. Grantaire noted the downturn of his mouth, which made him seem constantly displeased, and the crease that appeared between his eyebrows, giving him a decidedly argumentative air. He seemed a gentleman of little patience, and a decidedly bad temper. Grantaire endeavored not to make his acquaintance again.</p>
<p>Or, a Pride and Prejudice AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can't even tell you how much fun this was to write. I'm so excited to post it, if you see any errors, let me know. I'll post new chapters every few days, it shouldn't take more than two weeks(?) to get to the end of this, since I already have it written.
> 
> As always, much thanks to my lovely beta, Morgan

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a spouse. When such a man appears suddenly in a country neighborhood, it can be expected that his arrival will be the cause of great conversation and preparation in the vicinity. All families begin to gather up their eligible sons and daughters, and make arrangements to ensure that they are the first to welcome the newcomer to the neighborhood, without seeming presumptuous. One such family is headed by Jean and Fantine Valjean, two prominent members of the community who were well known for their slightly nontraditional family. In addition to their own natural born daughter, Cosette, they took in other children from the orphanage in Paris, and as a result have a much larger family than they had bargained for. Three of their sons, Grantaire, Bahorel, and Feuilly, are of an age, Cosette and her sister Eponine are younger, and Jehan is the youngest, only having been presented into society a year before. Both Valjean and Fantine were retired to the front room with most of their children, reading or pursuing other forms of entertainment, when Jehan flew in from the hall, recently returned from visiting with some neighbors across the way, the Baudins.

"Mother! Father! Have you heard?" he cried, "There is a new tenant at Courtemanche Park!"

Valjean hardly lifted his eyes from his book and replied, "Oh, is that what all the commotion has been? I had not noticed. Have you learned the name of our impending neighbor?"

"Irma said she was told by her father, who heard about it while he was in town on business. His name is Monsieur Marius Pontmercy, he's just moved from Paris and intends to make Courtemanche Park his seasonal residence. His servants have been here for the past two months, but he arrived less than a fortnight ago. He is supposedly planning a ball soon, as a manner of introducing himself to the new neighborhood."

Valjean's expression was one of suspicion, and he asked, "Mademoiselle Baudin volunteered all of this information? It appears that the entire neighborhood is more well informed than we are."

"They are! The entirety of the county is talking about it and we have heard nothing of him, much less of his ball." Speaking sweetly, Jehan attempted to curry favor with his wide brown eyes and pronounced pout. "Which is why you should call on him, to make his acquaintance and secure us an invitation to his ball. How can you say you want your children to be happy if you will not take this opportunity to expand our social circles to allow us to find acceptable partners?"

Valjean blinked and turned his attention to his wife, "Do we want our children to be happy?"

"Yes dear," Fantine replied without looking away from her painting. By this point, most of the children had abandoned their studies to focus on this new conversation.

"Oh," Valjean returned to his book, "Well, that would be why I called on our Monsieur Pontmercy earlier today."

The entire room was rendered speechless for the moment, which was a decidedly uncommon occurrence in the Valjean household.

“Well, Father, why did you not put forth that information earlier?” cried Cosette, “You let us all believe you had nothing to do with the matter! And you should certainly let us know if we are going to be entertaining a guest in the near future.”

“Well, I did invite him to visit tomorrow to see our grounds,” Valjean volunteered with a raise of his eyebrow. “Does that count as the near future?”

\----

To the disappointment of all of the Valjean children, Monsieur Marius Pontmercy’s visit the next day was very brief, and provided no opportunities for introductions. He arrived on time, toured the grounds briefly with Monsieur Valjean, and then had to take his leave to collect a few of his friends from Paris. However, he was gracious enough to extend an invitation to the Valjean family to attend the ball he was throwing in a fortnight. As he left, Grantaire, Cosette, and Eponine were able to catch a glimpse of him as he waited for his horse to be brought from the stables.

Grantaire squinted at him from the window, “Well, our Lord of Courtemanche is certainly not what I had expected.”

Eponine frowned at him, “What could you possibly mean?”

“He rides in the manner of a gentleman, but he speaks like a schoolboy. Did you hear him talking about the income of his lands when he and Father came back from their walk? He sounds like the headmaster has asked him to answer a question he is clueless of the answer to. I’m sure he’s not even half of Father’s age, how can he already run a manor? It’s a strange happenstance.”

“There’s more to a person than their experience,” Cosette pointed out, “Maybe he’s a perfectly lovely man. He cannot be too terrible, or you know Father wouldn’t have put up with him for the entire visit. And either way,” She paused, glancing out of the window again, where they could see Monsieur Pontmercy ascending his horse, “It must be said that he is a fine looking man, whether he is arriving or departing.”

Eponine and Grantaire murmured their assent, and the three moved away from their vantage point.

\----

The next fortnight seemed to take twice as long to pass, as time always seems to crawl when one is awaiting an event of great importance. During that time, clothes were put into order, and friends visited and consulted about who would be attending and what could be expected at the widely anticipated ball.

When the date of the event finally arrived, it was to much excitement and impatience. The Valjean children arrived at Courtemanche Park and entered the ballroom, eager to renew old friendships and begin some new. For hours, they circled the room, dancing when the opportunity arose and making note of who danced and talked with whom. Monsieur Marius Pontmercy was a popular partner, and the entire room was covertly watching who he chose to accompany. He appeared to favor the women of the event, leaving many a young man disappointed. In fact, he danced with Eponine once, to her delight, and with Cosette twice, to her surprise (and no one else’s). During a break between sets, Grantaire was leaning against a wall, recovering from his last dance, which had been with a particularly enthusiastic partner. He was nursing a glass of wine and talking to Cosette, and he could hear Monsieur Pontmercy talking to someone behind them. Cosette left suddenly, called away by an acquaintance from across the hall, and Grantaire’s attention was pulled to the conversation going on behind him.

“Do you not wish to dance Enjolras? I’m sure we could find an appropriate partner, even for you.”

Ah, that answered the question of whom Monsieur Pontmercy was talking to. Monsieur Enjolras was among the group that Monsieur Pontmercy had gone to Paris to retrieve before the ball, a widely admired group whose arrival had caused much excitement in the country. Monsieur Enjolras was an old university friend of Monsieur Combeferre, who was married to Monsieur Courfeyrac, who in turn was a childhood friend of Monsieur Pontmercy. Together they made quite an intimidating group, and it was no wonder Monsieur Enjolras had no partner for this dance, in Grantaire’s opinion. Though very attractive, Monsieur Enjolras had a certain manner about him which exuded efficiency and intensity, and condemned frivolity. Monsieur Combeferre and Monsieur Courfeyrac had spent the night engrossed in each other and the atmosphere, dancing and socializing by turns, but Monsieur Enjolras had stuck to the wall and with Monsieur Pontmercy, entering little into the conversations and having all the appearance of being terribly out of place.

“No, thank you, Marius. Even if I wished to dance, you’ve occupied the only acceptable partner, and I have no desire to take her from you.”

“Who, Mademoiselle Cosette? Oh yes, she’s quite lovely, if I do say so. But how about Monsieur Grantaire? He’s certainly striking, even if more masculine than my usual partner.”

Although he knew it was not possible, Grantaire would swear later that he could feel the heat of Monsieur Enjolras’ glare on him while he was considered. He attempted to appear very absorbed in his wine, in order to avoid suspicion.

“Who, him? He is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me, and far too engrossed in his drink for my taste. If this is the best the country has to offer, I will be glad to be rid of it.”

Grantaire’s ears burned with the rudeness which was being tossed at him, and turned to meet the eye of his accuser. However, when he met the gaze of Monsieur Enjolras for the first time, he was struck absolutely dumb.

For all his social faults, the man was absolutely breathtaking. Mortal words could never describe the vision he made, dressed in his finery and lit by the golden light in the ballroom, and Grantaire despaired of ever being able to accurately transcribe it onto canvas or paper. It was an effort of strength to hold the steely glare he wanted on his expression, especially when it was met by two deep blue eyes.

As first impressions went, it was certainly miraculous. However, once one looked closer, they could begin to see faults in the façade which comprised Monsieur Enjolras. Grantaire noted the downturn of his mouth, which made him seem constantly displeased, and the crease that appeared between his eyebrows, giving him a decidedly argumentative air. When Grantaire’s glare met his own, Monsieur Enjolras appeared briefly surprised and abashed, before his face settled back into a mask of indifference and condescension. Holding his gaze steady, Grantaire carefully set his glass down and turned away from both Monsieur Enjolras and Monsieur Marius, who was stuttering unattractively at the rudeness of his friend, especially when the subject to his rudeness was only a few feet away (and closely related to the new object of his own affections). 

Grantaire found a young girl, a friend of Eponine’s, and requested of her a dance, attempting to drive away the ghost of Monsieur Enjolras’ scorn.

He was largely unsuccessful.


	2. Chapter 2

A ball of a respectable size could fuel even the most audacious of gossips for weeks, and Monsieur Pontmercy’s ball was no exception. For quite a while afterward, the talk of the county was of who danced with whom, who wore what, and all the new acquaintances which were made and expanded upon. The only person surprised at Monsieur Marius’ newfound attentiveness to Cosette was the lady herself, and she was flustered by any mention of it (or appeared to be, to curb the talk and save the feelings of her sister). Grantaire followed the proceedings with interest, waiting to see if Monsieur Marius was worth his dear sister’s time, and whether the company he kept was worth their association. Said company made sure to accompany Monsieur Marius when he visited, which he did nearly every day. Grantaire got to know the entire party well, since Cosette urged him to attend her whenever they were called upon or when they returned the visit, so that she would not be alone with the object of her affections. In the beginning, Grantaire simply sat in the same room as their guests and focused on his sketching, shaping figures which would eventually be translated to canvas. However, as time passed and the group became more informal through continued association, Grantaire joined in on the conversations and began to see new friends in these outgoing neighbors.

Courfeyrac (as they had all insisted on the informal use of their names after the fifth visit) was a lively, joyous man, who always made sure to include everyone present in the conversation. He brought a certain energy to the party, and lifted the spirits of whomever he talked to. In addition to being an intelligent man, he was particularly in tune with emotions and nonverbal forms of communication. Whenever the conversation of their party drifted to a dangerous area, Courfeyrac could be counted upon to notice the trend, and would steer the conversation back to more entertaining topics. He could be somber when necessary, but tended to leave that responsibility to other members of his party.

Combeferre was perhaps not as energetic as his husband, but he was a kind man nonetheless. Less exuberant than his partner, he was clearly a learned man, and his quiet intelligence was always apparent, though the man never appeared overbearing or condescending. It was obvious that he cared dearly for everyone in their company, and as the visits continued and lengthened, Grantaire began to see in him a certain softness for members of the Valjean family as well.

Dear Monsieur Marius Pontmercy lived up to every expectation Cosette had put forth. Though he was, at times, shy to the point of silence, he was intelligent enough to hold his own in conversations and answer questions about the running of his manor. It was clear from the beginning that he had eyes only for Cosette, and regarded her with awestruck wonder, which Grantaire found rather endearing. Surprisingly, he also struck up an accord with Eponine, who, though initially very quiet and reserved, was outspoken enough when their acquaintance continued to challenge his opinions on nearly everything and provide interesting debate. The three men were delightful guests, and they, over the months they exchanged visits and meals, became dear friends to everyone, especially Grantaire, who accompanied Cosette on her visits most often.

Which only left Monsieur Enjolras.

To Grantaire, Enjolras was a conundrum. Although clearly educated and well-mannered to most, he always seemed particularly cold to Grantaire. Grantaire thought this particularly unfair, since he was the one who had been offended by Enjorlas’ remarks at the ball. Enjolras’ bearing toward Grantaire was by no means his default expression, however. When the members of the small group were alone, or as alone as they could get with at least six people in attendance, there was a hidden side of Enjolras’ character revealed, which had not made its appearance in polite company before. Then, Monsieur Enjolras was fiery and eloquent, speaking fervently about any cause he chose to champion. Enjolras had all of Combeferre’s intelligence, but none of his tact; he had all of Courfeyrac’s spirit, but none of his lightness. He was bracing and inspiring, even to their small group, even when he was incensed and defensive. When he started an argument, his eyes lit up and his face became more animated than the normal sullen mask it held.

In short, Grantaire was absolutely captivated.

He absolutely could not resist the man, and it only worsened one he was privy to this other, more passionate side of Enjolras. Though they had begun their acquaintance in stony silences, the nature of their relationship had changed. In the beginning, they had deviated into a neutral ground, not speaking much, but also not arguing publicly. Through exposure, however, Grantaire began to actually listen to what Enjolras was preaching, and could not help but respond in opposition. How could he respond any differently, when the things Enjolras was preaching were completely outlandish? Routinely he spoke of overturning the monarchy and supporting those who were of lower society in their attempts to advance themselves. He desired to dismantle the social caste system entirely, and throw France into a state of democratic rebellion. These were noble goals, certainly, but they were not ones which were easily attainable, and they certainly weren’t socially appropriate for someone of Enjolras’ class. On these last points, especially, Grantaire and Enjolras had differing opinions.

“Are you insinuating that I have not the best interests of the people in mind?” Enjolras accused Grantaire one evening after dinner in the Valjean family’s sitting room.

“I would never presume to do such thing, and certainly not within your hearing. However, I don’t believe you’ve considered every side of this issue, and especially its ramifications for our future society.”

Enjolras seemed stunned that Grantaire would doubt his clarity on any issues, much less openly contend with him.

“It’s all very well and good to fight for the liberation of all people, and the removal of all citizens from menial and undesirable jobs, but what will be done when all are liberated? Who will carry out the jobs which are necessary, if unsavory? Your plan hinges on the fact that you believe the people are all like you, and will do whatever is their duty in this new society.”

“And is that a completely ridiculous thing to believe?”

“It is, because you hold us mortals to the standards of gods. Not everyone is as selfless as you, Enjolras. There will always be those who swindle others and take advantage of those who have little, in money or in intelligence. Not everyone has your dedication, and many would not follow you willingly into the unknown with this ridiculous plan. And this does not take into account all those in high society who would vehemently oppose this mad scheme. The majority would throw you from their presence for suggesting such an idea, god-like standards or not.”

“So I suppose I should thank you for allowing my presence in your hall?” Enjolras replied with a small smirk, and Grantaire replied in kind, sure that he was being mocked for his dedication and unwillingness to part from this rebellious guest.

“Thank me for other things, my godly friend, but not for that. Your presence here is not a burden, and any inconvenience is certainly repaid by the amusement I receive from our frequent verbal sparring. Run along now Apollo, find another mortal to grace with your presence.”

Holding his gaze for a moment, Enjolras nodded toward Grantaire and turned again toward Combeferre, leaving Grantaire with the distinct impression he was just dismissed. It was one which was not uncommon around Enjolras, so Grantaire simply sighed and went to join Eponine and Courfeyrac in their conversation, completely oblivious of the lingering looks he was subject to from his previous conversational partner.

Becoming acquainted with the friends of a man who aspired to join his family was really the best way to promote strong social ties in the future; or so Grantaire told himself. In reality, he was falling dangerously quickly to the charms of Monsieur Enjolras, combative though he may be. His propensity for intelligent conversation, his belief in the inherent goodness of others, and his dashing figure were quickly endearing him to Grantaire, try as he might to fight it. However, Grantaire knew he was safe as long as no one else noticed his partiality for the man. After all, it is impossible for someone to exploit a weakness they don’t know about.

\---------

There were a great many things which people believed they knew about Monsieur Enjolras, but few of these things were actually correct. Enjolras could be cruel, it was true, but it was not widely known that the man was actually a dear friend to those close to him. His outward indifference and derision were simply a result of an empathetic man who had been rejected in the past, and his callous mask was a defense mechanism against those who were more hard-hearted than he. Enjolras’ great propensity for compassion and even bigger ambitions were tempered by his combative nature, and the combination had made him few friends in his youth. His slightly abrasive features made many wary of venturing too close, but those who did soon learned of Enjolras’ kind heart and unwavering loyalty. Combeferre prided himself in being among those who could accurately say they knew more about Enjolras than others, but even so, he was still often mystified by many of Enjolras’ actions.

In fact, he currently occupied that state, since he was witnessing something he had only seen once or twice before in his entire acquaintance with Enjolras. Enjolras, proprietor of one of the largest estates in Southern France, experienced scholar and wishful revolutionary, was gazing out of the window of their carriage and sighing. _Fondly._

“Enjolras,” he implored softly, so not to disturb Marius and Courfeyrac’s animated conversation, “Pray, tell me what’s on your mind.”

“What makes you think I am preoccupied with anything?” Enjolras attempted to appear guileless, which was an expression of his which seldom inspired confidence in strangers, much less close companions. Combeferre affixed Enjolras with a look which attempted to convey just that. It succeeded, judging by the abashed expression Enjolras took on.

“I was simply revisiting my conversation with Monsieur Grantaire earlier this evening. He is well versed in the art of argumentation and clearly well educated, more so than he seemed at first impression. He is knowledgeable about many a topic, and is always willing to challenge me. Speaking with him is always inspiring, and I find that I am glad I have had the opportunity to make his acquaintance further through Marius and Mademoiselle Cosette. I fear I would have overlooked him otherwise.”

Combeferre was speechless for a time as he comprehended what exactly Enjolras had just communicated. He had never heard Enjolras speak so well about someone with whom he had been introduced to so recently. His surprise was clearly noticed by Enjolras, so he attempted to collect himself and speak carefully, so as not to offend or deter Enjolras in regards to this new social interaction.

“I apologize if I appear taken aback, but your proclamation was very unexpected. You do speak with Monsieur Grantaire frequently, but I had not realized you were so partial to him. Your exchanges always appear to be just shy of hostile, they never seem to be tender or indicative of any fondness on your part. When taken with your initial impression of the man at Marius’ introductory ball, we were under the general impression that you tolerated the man, not that you particularly enjoyed his presence.”

Enjolras seemed perturbed by this interpretation, but he soon returned to his normal humor, slightly serious but with a determined air.

“Well, if this is the general belief, I will seek to change that. I hold him in very high regard, and I would like to get to know him better. If my efforts go smoothly, I see no problem with seeking a more personal relationship with Monsieur Grantaire.”

Combeferre stared at Enjolras for another length of time, then turned to his own window and attempted to understand exactly where their conversation had turned from speculation to planning.


	3. Chapter 3

It was Bahorel who decided to break the comfortable silence that had settled on the sitting room in the Valjean household. Grantaire was sitting at the writing desk, finishing the latest installment in his correspondence with a close friend, Monsieur Bossuet, along with Eponine, Bahorel, and Feuilly. Eponine was reading a letter she had received the day before, and Bahorel and Feuilly were trying to best each other at cards. 

“Grantaire, who are you writing to? Is it that dashing revolutionary of yours? He’s been coming around quite often recently; don’t think we haven’t noticed. Are we to expect a joyous announcement soon?” Bahorel teased, glancing up from his hand to try to meet Grantaire’s eye. 

All the comment garnered was a laugh from Grantaire, nothing like the flustered denials Bahorel had expected. “No, Bahorel, there will not be an announcement of that kind from us. In fact, I do believe that you’re more likely to receive a proposal from Monsieur Enjolras than I am. All I do is infuriate him, you would barely have to speak to him to fare better than I. Perhaps Feuilly would fare better than you, however, since they did have a very rousing conversation about the plight of the working man when last they met.” At this, Eponine gave a small cough, attempting to hide her laughter. 

“You don’t truly think so, do you?” Feuilly looked up from his hand to raise his eyebrows at Grantaire, “You are his favored conversation partner, everyone knows so. He seeks you out anytime you two are in the same company. How can you not think he looks upon you favorably?”

“My dear Feuilly, I am honored that you think so highly of me. Monsieur Enjolras does not seek me out for my company, but rather for the stage I provide. While conversing with me, he can speak without having to worry about any offense he might give, so little he cares for me or my character. He can speak freely, and sharpen his tongue for use against worthier opponents. I’m happy to be his whetstone, I require nothing more.”

Feuilly and Bahorel managed to appear even more incredulous at this declaration, while Eponine never strayed from her politely superior expression. 

“This is your belief? You will not be swayed?” Feuilly inquired.

“I shan’t.”

“But why not?”

Eponine interjected, “Because what our beloved Grantaire failed to mention is that if he ever did manage to obtain a proposal from Monsieur Enjolras, unlikely as it may be, he would accept in a heartbeat. He is absolutely wretched with feeling, and can’t be held accountable for anything he says as a result. Pay him no mind, he should be left alone with his thoughts of his beloved revolutionary.”

Grantaire felt his face heat with blush, and he choked on his breath for a minute before responding, “And I suppose you’re the only one allowed to speak of unrequited love, Eponine? Or has Marius not come calling today?”

Even from across the room, Grantaire could feel the power of Eponine’s harsh look, and he shrank back slightly. 

When she replied, it was in a tone far colder than the one she had used to address him earlier. “I may not be the sole authority on feelings which go unrequited,” she said as she stood from her seat by the window, “But there is one thing I certainly know.” 

Eponine paused before leaving the room, and glanced back at the men from the doorway.

“I know what someone looks like when they care little for their company, Grantaire. And I can assure you, it resembles little the way Monsieur Enjolras watches you.”

And with that, she swept from the room, leaving a dumbstruck Grantaire and a conspicuously quiet card game in her wake. 

“Well,” murmured Bahorel in the resulting silence, “Something interesting is finally happening to our little family.”

\------

Later that same evening, Grantaire was interrupted in his sketching by a knock on his door. When he set aside his planning and called for the person to enter, Eponine hurried through the door and closed it tightly behind her, clutching the letter from earlier that day, as well as another, in her hand. 

“Grantaire, am I interrupting anything terribly important?”

“Of course not! Stay, tell me what is the matter. You are quite pale; do you need me to call for Father?”

“No, actually, that’s what I was hoping to avoid.” She thrust one of the letters at him, “Read this.”

Grantaire took the letter and examined it, noting the poor quality of the paper and ink. It was dated approximately four weeks prior, and the worn creasing showed that it had   
been reread many times since then. 

_‘Dear Mademoiselle Valjean (Formerly Thenardier),_

_It is truly thrilling to be able to communicate with you once again, even if it is through this rather impersonal procedure. I apologize in advance for the content of this letter, it must be shocking for you to hear from your birth parents, especially since you are so well situated into your new station in life. Your true father and I miss you dearly, you have seldom left our thoughts over these past ten years.’_

“This letter is from your birth parents? Have they tried to contact you before?”

Eponine snorted indelicately, “Of course not. Once I was out of their care and they received the money Valjean volunteered to adopt me, I highly doubt they paid me a second thought.”

Grantaire inspected the opening of the letter again, “Especially since they have their dates incorrect. It has been fifteen years since last you saw them, not ten.”

“Exactly. Never the less, read on.”

_‘Though we have adapted to your absence, we feel your loss often, and it is akin to a knife through the heart at every turn. Every day we regret giving you to that scoundrel, and we wish constantly that you were returned to us, even if your future is brighter as another man’s daughter. Your father and I hope that this letter finds you in good health, and that you can find it in your heart to have the slightest amount of compassion for the parents who only wanted the best for you, and did so at the cost of their own pain.’_

“They cannot be serious!”

“Oh, but they are. Continue, you’ll soon see why they suddenly care so much.”

_‘Despite missing you every hour of every day, our lives have moved on enough for us to find happiness in our daily lives. Your father and I manage a small inn just outside of Paris, where we live a comfortable, if not abundant, existence. However, we have recently entered into a small amount of trouble through absolutely no fault of our own.’_

“Ah. Now I see where the daughter they gave up in exchange for money would be of use to them.”

“Precisely.”

_‘A man your father trusted ended up being a miscreant and took advantage of your poor Maman and Papa. His ruthlessness has left us with very little resources and we are in dire need of funds. We regret to ask our daughter for assistance, but the truth is that we do not have many friends who are true, and no one else to whom we could go for support in these difficult times. Any money you could spare would be an immeasurable weight lifted off of our hearts, and would return to us the will to survive._

_Yours, Maman and Papa (Madame and Monsieur Thenardier)’_

“The nerve of them! They sold you, like chattel to the highest bidder, and now they want to reap the benefits of your good fortune because they are unable to be responsible and manage themselves! Why, they should be in jail, not running an inn into the ground. If it were not so humorous, I would be absolutely enraged. I have never been so grateful that you are with us, Eponine, you are much too good for them.”

Eponine’s weak smile was not the response Grantaire had hoped for, and he sobered when she handed him the second letter. 

“Read this, then see if you retain your good humor, my dear brother.”

The second letter read, 

_‘Eponine,_

_After receiving your quite blunt refusal of our desperate pleas, we have been forced into an option we have been loath to consider. We’ve learned of your whereabouts, as evidenced by our letters, and have decided to pay your county a visit. We are excited to make the acquaintance of your peers, and inform them of your true station in life. We believe this will be an informative and enlightening meeting for all involved, and look forward to it greatly. If, after, you choose to renounce your newfound life, we will welcome you back with open arms._

_If you would rather we not stay in your area long enough to spread the lesser-known truth about your origin, we would be happy to oblige, for a generous recompense. We will arrive in your vicinity three weeks from now, which should provide you with enough time to make a decision and gather your funds, if that is what you so choose._

_Farewell, and we do so look forward to seeing you once again,_

_Madame and Monsieur Thenardier’_

Grantaire sat heavily into his desk chair, and stared at the letter. He read it once more, hardly comprehending the sheer audacity of these people.

“So they propose to storm into our community, complete outsiders, and spread rumors about your relations? Despite the fact that you’ve been here for as long as many of the established members can remember? Are they purposefully idiotic, or is it all by chance?”

“It doesn’t matter!” Eponine burst out. She stood and began pacing across the room, all semblance of control gone, now that there was someone else who could understand her turmoil. “Don’t you see? They’ll give their performance wherever they have an audience, spouting tales of criminal ties, unsavory links, and reprehensible actions. Whether or not their tales are ridiculous, and even if no one fully believes them, they will have accomplished their goal. No one will want to be tied to me, not if I have dark rumors trailing after my name. Everything I’ve hoped and worked for, any prospects I might have had, will disappear. I’ll be condemned to live in this house forever, trapped in a cage of their making. They’ll clip my wings with their words, and drag a victory out of my broken frame. Even if they don’t receive any money from me, their pride will be sated once I’m reduced to a stagnant figure. Everything Father has given me, everything he has helped me to do, it will be all for nothing. I’ll have failed him.” Eponine stepped against the wall, leaning against it, struggling to hold back her tears.

Grantaire rushed to her, and guided her down into a chair, kneeling before her. “’Ponine, my dear, listen to me. This will all be fine. We are not about to be bested by those vagrants, we’re much better than that, aren’t we?” Eponine’s weak smile was encouragement enough, and Grantaire continued on cautiously.

“Have you considered, even for a moment, giving into their demands? It’s not the most honorable option, but it would be the simplest.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Eponine’s eyes flashed with determination and anger, and she gripped Grantaire’s hands tighter, urging him to understand. “Grantaire, I will not let them win. They do not deserve anything from our family, they are not worthy. They are less than people, less than animals, they are pests and I will never let them take advantage of my happiness in this way.”

“Of course, yes, you are absolutely correct. And, in all likelihood, if you were to acquiesce to their demands now, it’s possible they would return in the future requiring more money to buy their silence. No, it’s best that we end this quickly and decisively.”

“How? I cannot fathom another option, other than social destruction.”

“There’s truly only one way to swiftly end this. We must tell Father.”

Eponine immediately recoiled. “Are you talking nonsense? You want to tell our father of my failure to control my former relatives? I cannot begin to understand how that would help our situation.”

“Eponine, you know he would never see it as a failure. He will want to help in any way he is able, that’s just how Father is. Please let him do what he can. Have faith that he will be able to aid you in this, and force the Thenardiers to rethink their blackmail plans. If you do well,” Grantaire smirked, “he might even be impressed upon to allow you to give them a firsthand account of your impressive fencing skill.”

The resulting smile on Eponine’s face was truly wicked, and her dark eyes nearly glowed with anticipation, shaking off the rest of her anxiety and fear. 

“Alright, we’ll tell Father. I want to see them scurry like rats when I am allowed after them.”

Grantaire threw back his head and laughed, then ushered Eponine out of his room in order to dress for dinner. It was good that Eponine had allowed him to ask for Valjean’s help, for once, it felt like they were one step ahead of any unease arriving in their corner of the country.

\----

Some miles away, a collection of dubious characters met in the crowded back room of a local inn. The air was hazy with smoke, and the room was badly lit, casting a sinister shadow over the long table and those gathered around it. The company was mixed, just a few members of the inner circle and the leaders of the band, a man and a woman. At the man’s signal, the room fell silent, but all eyes were turned to the woman, not her husband. 

“Is there any confusion in the proposed course of action? If anyone is unsure of their part, or unclear in their instructions, speak now, for we will likely not have time to meet again in the upcoming weeks.”

There was a general murmur of consensus, but no outright objections. At the woman’s glare, the conversations halted again, bringing focus back to the head of the table. 

“Splendid. With that settled,” the woman stood and raised her glass, “Let’s pay our wayward girl a visit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plots are the bane of my existence, but hopefully this one doesn't suck too badly. <3 Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

Monsieur Valjean was not a nervous man, and he was not prone to tells or habits. When he was thinking, he went absolutely still, he did not pace like many others or drum his fingers on a windowsill. He merely stood at his window overlooking the grounds and thought, frowning slightly. Eponine had just concluded her recollection of the events leading to the Thenardiers’ pressing letters, and she and Grantaire were waiting for Valjean’s reaction. When he finally turned and answered them, it was not with any of the answers they would have expected. 

“Invite them here.”

Both Eponine and Grantaire were rendered speechless, but it was Eponine who regained her senses first. “Pardon?”

“Invite them here. Not to stay, they would likely attempt to liberate us of some of our extraneous valuables, but to dinner or luncheon. Give us time to prepare for their visit, only a month or so, but do not put it off too long.”

“Why?” Grantaire interjected, unable to fathom what Valjean meant to accomplish. “These people are scum, taking advantage of their ties to this family to further their own goals. Why do you want to show them such civility?” 

“Because I believe we can render them impotent, but to do so, I need time to gather information, and a way for us to confront them without risking them running away. They cannot and will not refuse a direct invitation, they will believe we are acquiescing to their demands, and they will be accessible here. Does that seem reasonable?”

“It does.” Eponine sat up straighter, her head held high and dark eyes bright. “What do you need from us, Father?”

“From you, Eponine, nothing.” At Eponine’s frown he went on, “You cannot deviate from your normal outings, not until we have them here. I believe it is safe to assume we are under their scrutiny, and they will be watching to ensure you do not do anything which would interfere with their plans. Grantaire, however, they will not be watching for, because they most likely believe that you have kept this development to yourself. 

“Because of this, Grantaire, I will need you to travel to Paris. I will put you in contact with some people who I believe could be of help to you in investigating these Thenardiers, uncover information they would rather have us not know, and together we can ensure they never come near our family again.” There was a dark gleam in Valjean’s eyes, and Grantaire was strongly reminded that his father was not only the kind, gentle man he was with his children; he had made his fortune on cunning and forethought, he was clearly accustomed to winning his battles. At this realization, Grantaire was filled with confidence; how could they lose when they had Eponine, fierce and defiant, and Valjean, strong and determined, with them?

“Should I travel with Feuilly? We could visit with Bossuet, and he does have a number of connections which could aid in determining what type of situation the Thenardiers have gotten themselves into.”

“Yes, wonderful idea. As for you, my dear,” Valjean said, turning again to Eponine, “Stay in the area, continue to visit as you normally would. Visit with Cosette at Courtemanche   
Park, if our Monsieur Pontmercy still is partial to your sister. Keep up with your fencing lessons, you might need them sooner rather than later.”

“Of course, Father.” With a mischievous smile, Eponine left the room, heading for the lawn where the Valjean children would spar when they practiced with their weapons. 

“I will find Feuilly and inform him of our plans, we should be prepared to leave by the day after tomorrow at the very latest. Will you have your list of contacts prepared by then?”

“Certainly. Thank you for your aid, and for bringing this to my attention. I know Eponine would not have consented if you had not urged her. And Grantaire?”

Grantaire turned back from where he stood by the door to the hall. “Yes?”

“We will most likely emerge victorious, but I still am wary about the circumstances of this mess. I’ll feel better once this is resolved and behind us all. Be careful and cautious in the city.”

“Of course, Father.” Doubtful that the situation would resolve itself as quickly as they had previously hoped, Grantaire exited. 

\-----

The day that Grantaire and Feuilly left was bright, with only a slight chill in the air to mark the passing of winter. The two men took the carriage at their father’s insistence, since it was over a full day’s drive, and they had packed enough for their lengthy stay in the city. Valjean had estimated it would be the work of at least a month to contact all of the people he believed would be beneficial to their cause, so both Grantaire and Feuilly were prepared for a long visit. Of course, they would also have to be present in the widespread Paris social circle, since that was ostensibly the reason for their excursion. They would be staying with friends of the family, Bossuet, Joly, and Musichetta. Grantaire had known Bossuet before Valjean had taken him in, and had kept in touch with him through the long years. Grantaire had even met Joly and Musichetta a few seasons ago, when the trio had first met. Their relationship was perhaps slightly unconventional, but as long as his friends were happy, Grantaire could not have cared less. 

Feuilly and Grantaire would be staying in the inn their friends ran, in order to remain in easy contact and within hearing distance of any and all relevant whispers. When they finally stopped out front, Grantaire stepped from the carriage and immediately into his friend’s waiting arms. 

“Grantaire!” Bossuet boomed, never one to do something quietly or halfway, “Welcome! We’ve missed you, it’s been too long since you joined us. I swear, I must be passing my inherited misfortune to you, if business has kept you away for so long.”

Grantaire laughed, returning his friend’s embrace, “Truly, I am sorry Bossuet. I’ve been hard pressed to leave the country this past winter, a new arrival has kept some members of our family quite busy with social engagements.”

“And a friend of the new arrival has kept Grantaire well and truly busy as well,” Feuilly interjected, kissing Musichetta on the cheek.

“Darling Feuilly! It’s a pleasure to see you again, Grantaire has written about you, only good things of course, but letters don’t compare to visiting with friends. And really, my dears,” She chastised gently, “A new friend is no reason to neglect us. I am deeply hurt, and will require much wine and compliments to regain my old regard for the both of you.”

“But of course! I could never dream of depriving a sophisticated and stunning woman such as yourself of your well-earned compliments. Unless they were directed at the magnificent gentleman arriving behind you! Joly, my friend!”

Joly stepped forward with a smile, leaning heavily on the ornate cane he carried and threw his arms around Grantaire with abandon, tugging him inside once they separated.   
“Grantaire, it’s good to see you as always. Please do us a favor and refrain from breaking any of our furniture this visit. We are still finding replacements for the pieces you broke when you were last with us.”

“Oh Joly, you were well compensated for anything which might have been victimized by Bossuet’s uninhibited frivolity resulting from my influence. And you received a good many pieces of free artwork, if I’m not mistaken.”

“That is true,” Musichetta grinned at him crookedly from where she was leading him by the arm, “Many of our patrons ask about where they can find our mysterious artist to commission paintings from them. It’s a shame we must keep his identity a secret; I’m sure that R would be a famous name in the art world if interested parties were able to contact him.”

“Yes, well,” Grantaire ducked his head, a slight blush darkening his cheeks, “It’s probably best that no one knows, ‘R’ most likely wishes to be left alone wherever he is.”

“Are you saying…” Feuilly drifted to where a painting was hung on the wall of the lavishly decorated hallway. That particular piece was of a scene familiar to anyone who frequented the Valjean estate: a small pond almost hidden in the forest, which during the spring months was almost entirely surrounded by wildflowers. In this representation, a nymph approached the end of a pond, seemingly enchanted by its own reflection. 

“Grantaire, are these your paintings?”

The man in question shot a weak glare at Musichetta, who returned his gaze, completely devoid of anything resembling repentance. “Yes, Feuilly, they are mine. I generally send my finished paintings here, so they take up less space in the house, but why they insist upon hanging the blasted things I’ll never understand. I would be just as happy if they were left in the basement, they’re worth little outside of sentiment.”

“That’s completely untrue!” Bossuet frowned at Grantaire as they crossed into the parlor, leading the guests to seats by the fire. “We’ve had many offers for the paintings, ‘Chetta simply refuses to sell them because she will not bear to part with them. We sell them very sparingly, the most recent sell was a number of months back, the man was simply desperate to have it. He must have paid at least four hundred francs.”

“Four hundred? And you neglected to inform the man he was being swindled? There’s no way these amateur works are worth even a fraction of that.”

“Do not worry yourself, dearest,” Musichetta reclined on the settee, leaning against Bossuet with Joly situated on her other side, “The man had to be talked down from an even more preposterous price. Now, why are you here? Not that we don’t adore your company, but you did arrange this visit in quite a hurry.”

“Yes, I am in need of your assistance. I must meet with some people, as soon as possible, in order to determine the current status of two people who could possibly, in the future, become somewhat of a nuisance to the family.”

“Oh dear,” Joly frowned, “Well, what is it that you require of us?”

“Your contacts, my dear. I know you have access to the best gossip in the whole city, and if there was something beginning in the belly of this beast we call Paris, you or someone you trust would have heard of it. Feuilly and I are here to gather information, and hopefully end this before it starts.”

“When you say it like that, ‘Taire, you make it sound as if we have a plan,” Feuilly smirked, glancing at Grantaire. “We were sent here on Father’s suggestion, with a list of names from him of people to visit, and that’s what we’ll do. If anything comes of it, I’ll be well and truly surprised. I’m sure these characters will have been smart enough to cover their tracks, they seem to know what they’re doing.”

Grantaire clapped Feuilly on the shoulder as he stood up, “It’s good to know that you have complete faith in us. And even if all of this comes to nothing, we will have spent a month with good friends, which can never be counted as a loss. Now,” He threw a crooked smile at Musichetta, “Who will join me for a drink?”

After that, the night descended into much merriment, the five of them all joining in on the frivolity, toasting to old friends and new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short-ish chapter today, sorry! The next one will be longer, promise! <3


	5. Chapter 5

In another inn, this one many miles away and much less refined, a messenger ran through the bustling front room into the darker one behind. He burst through the door, and all conversation stopped.

“Her brother left. The one she’s always with. He’s gone to Paris, I don’t know how long, I heard the carriage looked pretty packed though.”

“Excellent.” Madame Thenardier pulled the papers on the table closer to her and leaned over, “We may be able to move our plan along quicker than we thought.”

“Is that the wisest option?” Her husband interjected from the back of the room, where he was standing with other men, drinking and finalizing some arrangements. “I was led to believe that our date was picked for good reason.”

“It does not matter. The important thing is that they’re well distracted. Papa is still occupied with trying to steer us away from their estate and brother is in Paris, desperately trying to find us, leaving our little bird all alone. Whether we strike soon or later is no matter.”

Monsieur Thenardier shrugged disinterestedly, “As you say. I have no preference for the when, as long as we get our money soon.”

“You lack all imagination and wit. Will someone remind me why we keep him? No, don’t bother, we haven’t the time. Now, Babet, Claqesous, and Gueulemer, come to me so I can explain your assignment. No, Montparnasse, not now. I will speak to you later.”

\--------

Valjean had not exaggerated when he foretold uncovering information about the Thenardiers would be an arduous task, a fact which Grantaire was learning firsthand after more than three weeks in Paris. Those who he had believed would be reputable sources had either left the city or were unwilling to disclose secrets of their dealings with the Thenardier family. Asking after “Patron-Minette”, a name Valjean had given him which he had learned was linked in some more unsavory dealings in conjunction with the Thenardiers, received even less help, as it rendered many of the merchants too scared to open their mouths. As a result, Grantaire was foul-tempered as the month was coming to its end, and Feuilly was faring no better; despite having his own separate contacts, none had given conclusive information about the Thenardier family. They both had bits and pieces of the story, but nothing conclusive. Trying to put the pieces together was immeasurably frustrating, but they tried nonetheless, heads bent together as they carried on down a quiet sides street.

Because of their preoccupation, they did not notice anyone else on the street until they nearly walked into Monsieurs Combeferre and Enjolras. 

“Hello! What a surprise!” Combeferre was clearly taken aback, but still pleased to see them, “It is good to see you, we were told you were visiting friends, but had no idea you would still be in the city.”

“I wish it was only visiting,” Feuilly said, with a tired edge to his voice, “We are in the city for business, and have been here for the better part of a month. Have you just arrived? We were led to believe you were staying at Courtmanche Park for the time being.”

“And how did you know we were in the city? I had no idea our leaving the town was such an event.” Grantaire met Enjolras’ gaze, who looked away once he was caught staring. 

“Your sister, Mademoiselle Cosette mentioned it when we visited her and Eponine about two weeks ago now. Then, last week Enjolras had a letter from a bookseller we know, to inform him that the rare books he requested were in stock, so we took a trip in.”

“How coincidental,” Grantaire remarked, watching Enjolras’ face carefully, believing he had spotted the traces of a blush.

“Yes, well,” Enjolras straightened, his expression reverting to politely interested, “It’s quite a coincidence.”

“And where are your counterparts? It is rare that we see you without Courfeyrac, Combeferre.”

“Marius is understandably reluctant to leave Courtmanche Park,” Combeferre replied with a small smile, “And because he does not like to be by himself, Courfeyrac offered to stay behind while I accompanied Enjolras into London.”

“He’s quite gracious,” Enjolras said, a tiny grin breaking his polite mask. “Is your business soon concluded, or will you be staying in Paris for some time?”

Feuilly interjected before Grantaire could say anything, “We’ll likely be here for a while, our endeavor is taking much longer than previously thought. Might we have the pleasure of your company some night? We’re staying at the Musain and a visit would be most welcome.”

“We’d love to join you. Unfortunately, we already are promised to another for the evening, but perhaps we could impose upon you for dinner tomorrow night?”

“That sounds wonderful, we look forward to your company.” And, professing their farewells, the two pairs departed. 

As soon as they were out of hearing distance, Grantaire turned to Feuilly and demanded, “Exactly what was that about? We are here with a purpose, not just to go about visiting on a whim!”

“We must interact in society, otherwise we would seem suspicious. I was being social.”

“Oh no, my dear Feuilly, you were not simply _being social._ You’ve hardly spoken to the pair of them, and now you’re greeting them like bosom friends? What are you planning?”

“Excuse me, I’ve spoken to them both! Just last time they visited, Enjolras and I had a particularly rousing conversation on the conditions of the laboring class in the city versus the country. But no, you’re correct, I have ulterior motives.”

“Aha! You are found out, you dastardly fiend! Out with it then, what is your scheme about?”

Feuilly’s smile was positively villainous, “Well, if they come to the Musain, then they must meet the proprietors. And I’m sure our friends will be very interested in meeting the famous, angelic Enjolras. _Especially_ after the very lengthy monologue you gave last night about, shall we say, the fit of his trousers.”

Grantaire blanched. 

\------- 

Hosting Messieurs Combeferre and Enjolras for dinner was not nearly as mortifying a task as Grantaire had feared it would be. Combeferre was his ever gracious self, ensuring the conversation kept flowing without trouble. Enjolras was in rare form, politely listening to even Bossuet’s stories, which had a tendency to wander into topics much removed from when they started, and hardly even talking of rebellion. He repeatedly glanced at Grantaire, and it almost seemed as though he was attempting to confirm that he was not offending anyone, and was making a good impression on his new acquaintances. To Grantaire, this was a slightly troubling observation, as he had never known Enjolras to care much about the good opinions of those around him. To the other members of their party, the shy looks were much less troubling, and instead were filed away for ammunition in gentle teasing at a later date. 

Later, when they had retired to the parlor and Combeferre and Joly were engrossed in a discussion of a recently published medical journal, Grantaire joined Enjolras in standing by the fireplace, where the latter was inspecting the painting which hung over the mantle. This one captured a grove of trees in the middle of autumn, their leaves ranging in shades from fiery orange to burnt sienna. When he noticed Grantaire approaching, Enjolras turned away from it and greeted Grantaire with a smile, which startled the other man slightly.

“Grantaire, hello. Would you like a drink?”

“No, but thank you for the offer. I’ve already helped myself,” he toasted Enjolras with his nearly full glass. “I hope the dinner was enjoyable enough to you, we certainly weren’t imagining having company before we realized you were here.”

“Of course, it was lovely. Your friends are certainly characters; I’m very pleased to have been introduced. And they have some very interesting stories about you, in particular.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m here, to ensure that they keep quiet about the more interesting ones.”

“What a shame.” That small smile was back when Enjolras’ attention once more drifted to the painting behind them. Grantaire was caught in the soft kindness evident in his face, unable or unwilling to look away. Eventually, he disturbed his study of the precise angles and curves that made up that particular expression to break the silence which had descended.

“Well, what do you think?”

“Hm?” Enjolras turned his head back toward Grantaire, “What do I think of what, exactly?”

“The painting, naturally. You seemed quite enraptured when I first came over here, and once again were ensnared by it just a moment ago. Do you enjoy it, or are you silently critiquing the artist’s brushstrokes?”

“It would be quite rude of me, wouldn’t it, to stand here and criticize the art of my hosts?”

“Come now, Apollo, I won’t tell. You’re very knowledgeable about these kind of things, I know you have a good eye for art. What do you think?”

“I must confess I quite like it. The color palate is wonderful, and the entire composition communicates the feeling of warmth and potential that I feel captures the essence of a French autumn. I am comfortable in saying that I would not be surprised to find this piece in a museum one day.”

Grantaire stood silently in the wake of such praise, unused to letting anyone other than his family see his art at all, much less having them react so favorably.

The potentially awkward silence was broken by Musichetta’s arrival to their fireside chat, and she remarked, “Enjolras, I see you have found my favorite painting! Do you like it? If you’re looking to commission, I could put you in contact with the artist, I know him personally.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she met Grantaire’s warning gaze.

“‘Chetta…”

“I would be very grateful if you would, actually. This is beautiful, and I have noticed many of the other paintings have a similar style; is all the art in your inn from this ‘R’?”

“The majority of it, yes. We are the primary outlet for the artist, whenever he finishes a new piece he usually sends it to us, and we keep it or sell it if there’s enough interest.”

“I’m certainly interested, I adore the style and would love to have a piece of my own. Do you know if the artist takes commissions?”

Even before she opened her mouth, Grantaire knew what was coming. He tried to remove himself from the conversation but Musichetta grasped his arm and would not let go.

“Actually, fortune must have smiled upon you, since we can ask him ourselves.” She pulled Grantaire closer, and pointedly asked, “Well, R? Do you take commissions?”

“Certainly no longer from you, you foul turncoat. You’ll never see another one of my paintings after this little show. They’ll all go in the basement, where they belong.”

“Do you mean to say,” Enjolras looked quickly to the painting, then back at Grantaire with wide eyes, “Grantaire, you painted these?”

“So I wasn’t the last to know!” Feuilly joined loudly, from across the room. “Bossuet made it seem as though everyone knew but me!”

“Yes, Enjolras, they’re mine. They aren’t very good; I don’t expect you to think highly of me. I paint them mostly to pass the time, and they make passable gifts during the holiday season.”

“Aren’t very good? Grantaire, R, they’re…” Enjolras seemed quite awed, which was a strange reversal of their usual positions, in Grantaire’s opinion. He wasn’t sure if he enjoyed it. “R, they’re wonderful. _You’re_ wonderful.”

The two stared at each other for a minute, absolutely lost for words, before Musichetta broke in again; Grantaire considered forgiving her for outing him in light of her impeccable sense of timing.

“ _Thank you,_ Enjolras. See, Grantaire? You’re very talented. Perhaps now you’ll let me show your paintings around, instead of keeping them sequestered here.”

“Perhaps.” But even then, Grantaire couldn’t tear his gaze away from Enjolras, absolutely drowning in the depths of his eyes.

“This has been absolutely lovely,” Combeferre stood from where he was seated with Joly and went to retrieve his hat and coat, “But it’s getting late, and we shouldn’t impose upon you any longer. We shall see you soon though, I believe?”

“Absolutely,” Bossuet agreed, handing Enjolras his coat, “You are welcome anytime. The both of you, with or without these rascals to entice you.”

“Thank you, we will most definitely take you up on that. Enjolras?”

“Right. My apologies. Goodnight, it was lovely to see you again.” He directed the last at Grantaire, and then stepped out into the night with his friend. When the door shut behind both of them, Grantaire leaned back against the mantle and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He looked around the room to find all of its inhabitants’ gazes fixated on him.

“What is it?”

“A new friend indeed. Grantaire, I am deeply hurt that you would keep such secrets from us,” Musichetta tutted at him and helped Joly to his feet. 

“Secrets?” Grantaire nearly sputtered, his composure completely spent, “There are no secrets here! He’s a friend of Cosette’s Marius, that’s all.”

“Of course not. Well, I for one am deeply saddened that you didn’t at least tell us you were being wooed. I would have loved to see Monsieur Enjolras attempting to bring you flowers or some other such frivolity.” Joly made his remarks as he exited the room, flanked on one side by Musichetta, and on the other side by Bossuet.

“That’s absolutely preposterous! I’m not- he would never… There is no wooing!” Frantically, Grantaire turned to Feuilly, “You believe me, don’t you? You’ve seen us argue, you have to agree that he is not attempting to woo me in any form.”

Feuilly raised an eyebrow, “There was quite a lot of praise being thrown around for two people who supposedly have no untoward interest in each other. I’m quite suspicious of your motives. Should it have been you two who were chaperoned, not Marius and Cosette?”

Throwing up his arms, Grantaire stalked from the room. He hoped it was dramatic, he felt he deserved it after the preposterous propositions he had to endure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter, since you all waited so patiently. Comments and kudos are my lifeblood!


	6. Chapter 6

Earlier that same evening, just outside the Valjean Manor, a courier on horseback galloped away from the house and disappeared into the distance. Cosette and Bahorel, returning from a visit to Courtemanche Park, encountered the rider leaving and, intrigued, hurried inside. 

“Father!” Bahorel called as they entered the foyer, “Father, where are you?”

Cosette laid a hand on his arm, hushing him. “Bahorel, there’s no need to alert the entire house to our return. Father is most likely inside his study; we can look for him there.”

They found their father in his study, pacing methodically. Valjean’s face was drawn, and when he stopped and stood behind his desk, his knuckles were clenched tightly on the edge. The darkness of the night outside seemed to intrude on the bright, warm colors of his study, robbing it of its warmth, and the entire room was infused with a tense energy.

“Father?” Bahorel was unusually gentle in his tone, sensing that this was not a situation which required his characteristic brash tones. “Father, is there anything amiss?”

“We saw the courier, Father. Is this anything to do with-?“

“Where has my authority gone? My children, bursting into my study with questions. In my day, children were terrified of their parents. Who could have raised such poorly behaved children?” Valjean’s eyes were exhausted, but still held the spark of humor that endeared him so to his children.

“I believe you ended any fears we may have had when you comforted Feuilly and I during the heavy rains and thunder when we were small,” Bahorel’s smile was soft and fond.

“And I know I stopped being afraid of your anger after the first time I fell while riding, when you immediately ran to me and soothed my scrapes.”

Valjean laughed softly, “My perceptive children. Truly, I was hoisted on my own petard. Very well. The courier is currently en route to fetch Grantaire and Feuilly in Paris. With luck, they’ll receive my letter just after dawn, and be home before nightfall tomorrow. They are of more use at home than they are in the city.”

“More use?” Cosette frowned, “I thought they were in Paris visiting friends; Grantaire said nothing of having work to accomplish while in the city.”

“Feuilly mentioned visiting contacts from his union organizations in a correspondence, but I’ve heard nothing since. Are they in danger?”

“No, it is not they who are in danger.” Valjean’s shoulders rose and fell, and he braced himself on his desk once more. “Eponine never returned from her afternoon ride yesterday.”

“What? I thought she had sent word that she was staying with Irma Baudin for the night, since her horse had lost a shoe?” While Cosette demanded answers, Bahorel resumed the pacing Valjean had abandoned, however his was less methodical and more akin to someone attempting to wear out a specific region of carpet in a short period of time.

“So did I. However, when I went to retrieve her this morning, I discovered that the Baudins never saw Eponine yesterday. In closer examination of the note she sent, it appears that it is only a very well done forgery. I’ve enlisted the help of some of the staff to go out and look for her, but I don’t think she’s simply lost.”

“Why not?” 

“If she was, then who would have sent the note? No, someone has taken our Eponine, and Grantaire and Feuilly were helping me to look for them. The ruffians who took Eponine had reached out to her before, and when Grantaire alerted me to the danger, I sent them to Paris to find out what they could about these people, the Thenardiers. The search is useless now, so I want them home in order to help us find her. Hence, the courier.”

Cosette squared her shoulders in indignation, and met Valjean’s gaze head on, “And you did not think it was prudent to alert the family to this danger? I could have gone with her riding; we all could have protected her together.”

“At the time, it seemed more reasonable to make the Thenardiers believe we had no idea of their plans. However,” he said, holding up a hand when Cosette meant to interrupt, “In light of recent events, I do believe it would have made more sense to alert you all to the dangers, and I apologize.”

Once Cosette nodded in acquiescence, Bahorel asked, “Well, what are we to do now? We could go out in search of Eponine tonight, but it would most likely be an exercise in foolishness. I do not like the idea of waiting, but I fail to see what charging around the county after dark would accomplish, as satisfying as it would be.”

“No, now we wait.” Somewhat appeased, Valjean sank into the chair behind his desk. “I trust Eponine to take care of herself until help arrives. Grantaire and Feuilly must have been making some progress in the city; we will utilize their information in addition with the search parties I sent out this morning to help us determine her possible location.”

“Good. That’s useful. We will find her, and bring her home.” Cosette appeared less nervous with a set plan in front of them.

“And once we do,” Bahorel paused, “What will we do with those who took her from us?”

A dangerous smile played across Valjean’s face, “Well, we will have to deal with what’s left of them. What a pity.”

Cosette cocked her head, “What do you mean, ‘with what’s left’?”

“Well, I don’t suppose Eponine is going to be very pleased to have been taken against her will. And she has been demonstrating considerable skill with her rapier, which accompanies her wherever she may go.”

A sly smile now appeared on Bahorel’s expression, “Hell hath no fury like a grievously offended Eponine.”

“Precisely. I believe it’s in the Thenardier’s best interests that we find Eponine before she rescues herself. There’s no telling what havoc she will wreak on her own.”

Malcontent, Cosette nodded, “Still, I worry for her. What if she is outnumbered? Or incapacitated?”

“There’s no use worrying about that now. All we can do is wait. And pray that Grantaire and Feuilly are fast riders.”

\----- 

The morning after the unexpected dinner party, dawn arrived quietly on the inn, and its inhabitants. Grantaire took his time rising and dressing for the day, arriving in the dining room to find only Musichetta and Joly there as well. He greeted them quietly, and sat down to his breakfast. 

It was only a moment later that Feuilly burst into the room, and called breathlessly, “Grantaire!”

Grantaire rose from his seat quickly, unsettled by the distress plain on Feuilly’s face. “What’s wrong, have you found something?”

“Well actually, yes, but that’s not important now. I have just returned from visiting an informant, and I was accosted on entering the inn by a messenger who has arrived with word from home. Eponine has disappeared.”

“What?” Grantaire rushed to Feuilly’s side to inspect the letter himself. He read it quickly, seeing firsthand that what Feuilly reported was true. His father urged him and Feuilly to return home, to aid in the search and return of Eponine.

“Pack your things, Feuilly. We’re returning to the manor.” Feuilly nodded and exited the dining room, returning to his quarters to prepare for their departure.

“Joly, Musichetta, you’ve been gracious hosts, but we simply must-“

“Say no more,” interrupted Joly, “Go, we will do everything we can to hasten your departure.”

“Thank you, dear friends.”

“Of course, darling.” Grantaire found himself being thoroughly embraced by Musichetta and returned her affection eagerly, feeling quite rattled. “You can return our kindness by hosting us at the manor very soon.”

“As soon as possible, of course.” With that, Grantaire took his leave, hastening to his own room to gather the essential things he must bring home. Throwing things haphazardly into a bag which could easily be strapped to his back, at first he didn’t notice the opening of his door. He looked up only when Joly called his name.

“I tried to keep him downstairs, but he was very insistent, I’m terribly sorry for the intrusion.” And once Joly stepped back from the door, the very last person Grantaire would have expected entered.

“What on earth are you doing here?”

“I came to speak with you, but obviously there is something much more important going on.” Enjolras frowned as he took in the state of the room. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“What did you come to speak to me about? Wait, never mind, there’s no time. You’re right, there is something going on, my family is in danger, and I need to get back to them as soon as possible. So I’m terribly sorry Enjolras, but I really cannot stop to argue with you right now.”

“Of course. I would never ask you to set your family aside. How can I assist you?”

Grantaire stopped in his tracks and stared at Enjolras, whose normal expression of determination had replaced his perplexed one. “You want to help?”

“I had assumed that asking if I could assist you would communicate that I do, in fact, wish to help.” Enjolras’ eyes seemed unable to decide whether to be amused or exasperated, which was the most confounding of everything which had happened that morning. “Grantaire, of course I want to help. Your family’s safety means a lot to me, especially since Marius hopes to join it soon. Besides that,” Enjolras shifted where he was still standing in the doorway, “I…care for you deeply, and anything that I could do to help you would be done gladly. Your family’s happiness is important to me, and yours is even more so.” 

Grantaire stared at Enjolras in silence for a complete minute.

“I…I quite honestly do not have any idea how to interpret what you have just told me, so I am going to ignore it until we are in a more private place and my sister is not in grave danger. Then, and only then, we will have this discussion, which I feel as if I am a few pages behind. Hopefully, there will be wine involved.”

Enjolras nodded, “That is a sufficient compromise. With that decided, we should leave with haste. I do not think it is prudent to continue wasting time negotiating a future conversation.”

“A logical conclusion. Joly!” His call was met with only silence. Grantaire sighed, “Joly, I already know of your propensity for eavesdropping, please end this charade.”  
Joly sheepishly entered, forcing Enjolras closer to Grantaire, “How can I be of service?”

“We will require horses, three of them apparently,” Grantaire narrowed his gaze at Enjolras before facing Joly again, “Do you believe you could procure them for us?”

“Of course,” Joly motioned to Enjolras to follow him, “Come with me, you might want to send a note to your friend Monsieur Combeferre before you ride gallantly to the rescue. I don’t suppose you notified him before you came to call on Grantaire?”

“Thank you, yes. I’ll tell him to follow us with the rest of our things, I don’t think we will be returning to Paris for some time.”

“He can take our carriage,” Grantaire interjected. Enjolras turned to him, surprised. “We certainly won’t be taking it home, the horses are faster, and it would be a bother to come back just to fetch it.”

“Yes, thank you.” With a quick, awkward nod, Enjolras left with Joly, who raised his eyebrows at Grantaire in supplication. At the dark look he received, Joly quickly exited.

Quickly finishing his packing, Grantaire hurried downstairs after them. Upon entering the landing, he was accosted by Feuilly.

“I forgot to tell you when I saw you earlier, but I uncovered a piece of information that I think will be more valuable now than before.”

“What is it?”

“The name of an inn many believe to be run by the Thenardiers.” Feuilly brought forth a piece of paper from his jacket pocket unfolded it to reveal the words _Sergeant de Waterloo._

“It is located a few miles from home, but we would take the same road to journey there. I am torn between wanting to go directly there, since that would be the most likely place for them to keep Eponine, and visiting home first. I would not want us to split up, because I do not think it would be safe to go to the inn alone.”

“Well, that is a problem we can easily solve. Enjolras is joining us on our ride home.”

Feuilly stared incredulously at Grantaire at that pronouncement. “What on earth did you do to convince him to accompany us? And why?”

“Nothing! Monsieur Enjolras decided for himself that it was in his best interest to help us, and invited himself along on our excursion.”

Narrowing his eyes, Feuilly waited for a more detailed explanation. When none was forthcoming, he said, “There must be more to that story. When none of our siblings have been kidnapped, I will be dragging it out of you.”

“When none of our siblings are kidnapped,” Grantaire said wryly, “I hope to have a better explanation myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! We ended up staying with family longer than planned, but let me know what you think! <3


	7. Chapter 7

The ride back to their little area of the country lasted until mid-afternoon with few stops along the way. By the time the trio reached the final crossroads before their departure, the sun was beginning to descend toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the hilly moor. 

“Are you certain, Grantaire?” Feuilly asked, his hands tightening on his reins. “I would be much reassured if you would allow me to accompany you two to the inn.”

“No, but thank you. Go to Father, tell him where we are, and then follow us. Hopefully with as much help as possible. Enjolras and I will ride to the inn, and determine whether we can accomplish anything before you arrive.”

“As you say. Please don’t do anything foolish.” At Grantaire’s snort, Feuilly turned to Enjolras. “Don’t allow him to put himself in any unnecessary danger.” 

“I will do my best.”

“I suppose that is all I can ask for.” With a small nod, Feuilly turned and rode off, toward home and safety. 

Sighing, Grantaire looked to Enjolras and said, “Are you sure you want to continue with me?”

“I’ve come this far, haven’t I? It would be cowardly to abandon you now.”

“Then let us go.” And together, they started down the path toward the Sergeant de Waterloo. Despite the fact that they were riding toward a very possibly dangerous location, Grantaire could not help to notice that it was a lovely day. And the company he kept was certainly above reproach.

It took them most of another hour to reach the area in which they were told the inn was located, and as they crested a nearby hill, the sole building which lay in the valley below was engulfed in flames and was spewing thick, black smoke.

“Oh, my Lord,” Enjolras breathed, eyes wide at the conflagration. 

Grantaire’s only thought made its way out of his lips, “Eponine,” just before he urged his horse forward down the path, galloping toward the inferno in some mad dash to try to find his sister. He could hear Enjolras curse behind him and then follow, but the rest of his focus was searching for a familiar figure coming out of the flames.

It was only then that he could see the shadowy silhouette emerging from the smoke further down the road. The person is riding a horse and is stained with soot, so much so that Grantaire did not recognize her until she was almost on top of him.

“Eponine?” He called, “Eponine, is that you?”

“Grantaire! Oh, thank heavens you’re here. We need to go home, they might come back to look for me once they realize I am not with them. And is that…Monsieur Enjolras?”

“Mademoiselle Eponine,” Even from atop his horse, Enjolras managed a small bow, “It is good to see you safe and unharmed.”

“Thank you. Well, it seems like you have quite a lot to tell me, why don’t we begin our journey home and you can tell me exactly how you two ended up as my rescue party, since last I heard you were both in Paris.”

“We have a lot to tell you? No, my dear Eponine, I think it is you who should begin her tale, since you were the one who was abducted.”

“Oh, that. Yes, well, a few weeks after you left for Paris, I was out riding when I was set upon by what I believed to be bandits. I was quickly surrounded, there were at least ten men, and I had no hope of fighting them. When they took me back to the inn, they had not even the foresight to blindfold me, so I knew exactly where I was. From listening to them talk, I believe they were going to use me to extort much of Father’s fortune before they ran away with me, but I put a stop to that before it began. They didn’t restrain me when I was brought in, they simply put me in one of the inn’s rooms and locked the door. For whatever reason, they believed I would never try to escape.” 

Eponine huffed, clearly offended at the lack of regard for her initiative.

“As a result, I was able to utilize the lamp oil and matches one of the guards left in the room this morning, as well as the curtains and bedding, to start a small fire as a distraction and left through the window. It was not very ladylike, to be completely honest, but it did work. I took one of the horses and rode to the west, just below the ridge so they wouldn’t be able to find me, but I could still see them. After the initial panic, they scattered so that any upstanding citizens who happened to see the blaze and come to aid them wouldn’t find out about their kidnapping side business. Then I rode toward home and found you.

“So, now that you know how I escaped from my supposed abduction by a group who turned out to be completely hopeless at kidnapping, how did you find me? And furthermore, why did you, Grantaire, ride all the way from Paris to fetch me instead of Father and Enjolras, why did you accompany him?”

Silence reigned, aside from the sound of the horses’ hooves as they trotted along. 

Eponine huffed again, this time at their idiocy instead of her captors’. 

“Both of you are completely insufferable.” With that, she urged her horse into a gallop and left the two of them behind.

Grantaire turned to Enjolras imploringly, saw Enjolras doing the same, and turned away, desperately aware of the flush surely painting his cheeks. He commanded his horse faster, and in doing so missed the similar flush which was spread across Enjolras’ face as well. 

\----

Eponine’s homecoming was very nearly ruined by the search party which was leaving just as they entered the gates to the Valjean Manor. Once assured that no one was injured and required immediate attention, everyone was ushered inside, where Eponine’s story was repeated many a time, thanks were given for Eponine’s quick thinking and the Thenardiers’ utter incompetence at successful kidnapping, and relief was expressed at the end of the stressful ordeal. Once everyone was occupied chatting or fussing over Eponine, (who looked ready to burst at all of the pestering) Enjolras made his way to Grantaire’s side and asked for his company on a walk around the property.

“Yes, well I believe that does satisfy both of the conditions I proposed, does it not?” Grantaire asked with a rueful smile.

“It does, although I do not believe we will be able to find any wine in the great outdoors.”

“True, nature is terribly disappointing in that way.”

Grantaire informed Bahorel of where they were going, and was sent off with quite a saucy wink. Rejoining Enjolras, they ventured outside and were both immediately struck by self-consciousness. 

“Do you suppose we’ll be safe out here from kidnappers and vagrants? I’ve heard that they frequent the area.” Enjolras teased gently, unsure and out of his depth.

Grantaire laughed softly, “Have no fear, I’ll protect your virtue.”

“My very own knight,” Enjolras smirked at him, threading his arm through Grantaire’s, who stared at it in alarm.

“So, this is what you wished to speak to me about?” Grantaire managed through a mouth which had suddenly become bone dry.

“Yes, I fear…” Grantaire could feel Enjolras inhaling deeply, as if bracing himself for what he was about to say. “I fear that my misconceptions of you at the beginning of our relationship have resulted in you forming incorrect conclusions about my regard for you.”

Grantaire blinked in surprise, “Was that an attempt at an apology?”

“After a fashion. It was a mistake to judge you so harshly before we even had a chance to speak. I was wrong, on all accounts, and I can see that now. You are so much more than what I had thought, so much better than I deserve, and I am truly sorry that I made you feel as if you were less than that.” They had stopped in their walk by a small grove of trees, budding green with the growth of early spring. Enjolras stopped them and turned so he was facing Grantaire, keeping his grasp on Grantaire’s arm and entreating him with wide eyes. 

“Thank you, Enjolras. I admit that I believed you held me in low esteem, certainly derision and perhaps contempt. It is heartening to know you regard me with some fondness, and be assured that I have only affection to offer you as well.”

Enjolras cut his eyes away and tightened his grip on Grantaire’s arm before releasing it, saying, “I believe the phrase ‘some fondness’ may be a gross understatement.”

“What do you mean by that?” 

Clenching his fists as well as his jaw, Enjolras said, “I do not wish to be improper, truly, but I don’t think there’s any other way to express what I am feeling other than that I believe I have fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with you.”

Grantaire’s mouth dropped open, and in lieu of a response Enjolras continued, “For a long while, I was simply puzzling out what I was feeling, I have never experienced this kind of emotion before. You were invading my every thought and it was difficult, nearly impossible, to go anywhere and not think of you. Combeferre had become concerned that I was not acting like myself, but when I’m in your company, I feel like I can be myself without judgement or reproach. And,” he murmured with a smirk, “It has become increasingly difficult to tease Marius about how adoring he is with your sister when I have the desire to do the exact same thing with you.

“So, Grantaire, as you can see, you have made my life extremely difficult, since you insist on being both charming and talented in addition to your many other redeeming qualities, and I would appreciate it if you could tell me to be gone and never to return, or something of the sort, so I could begin to return to normal.”

Grantaire covered his mouth with his hand, still absolutely shocked at the declaration which had poured out of Enjolras’ mouth like it had been bottled up until it could no longer be contained. “You love me?”

“Yes. And I truly apologize if it is upsetting or unwanted, but I could not go any longer without telling you, I felt as if I was being dishonest. If you don’t feel the same way-”

“Oh goodness, please just stop talking,” Grantaire pleaded, stepping forward to close the distance between them and took Enjolras’ hand again.

“Are you- is this- Grantaire _please._ ” To see the normally eloquent Enjolras reduced to such stammering was quite a boost for Grantaire’s ego, but relieving him of his misery truly was the gentlemanly thing to do.

“I’ve been absolutely enamored of you since the first time I met you, my dear Apollo. There is nothing that you could tell me which would make me love you any less. I’m yours, completely.”

A small grin surfaced on Enjolras’ face, “Nothing I could say?”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow in suspicion, “Is there something you want to confess, Monsieur Enjolras?”

“It is possible that I bought your painting from Musichetta, the one of the autumnal trees. It is also possible that I paid an exorbitant amount of money for it. I am absolutely not ashamed of it. Combeferre is bringing it back here from Paris, and it will hang in a place of honor once I return to my estate.”

Gasping dramatically, Grantaire wound his arms around Enjolras, delighting in the bright smile he received in return, “I cannot believe you did such a dastardly thing. I am grievously offended and it will take a retribution of immense proportions to rectify this slight against my character.”

“What if I asked you to marry me?” An almost bashful look took up residence in Enjolras’ eyes, and if Grantaire wasn’t already struck dumb with surprise for the second time in one conversation, that would have done it. “Would that be retribution enough?”

“It just might.” Truly, Grantaire needed to find some kind of resistance to Enjolras’ smile, because he was willing to do anything which would keep it there and that was positively dangerous. “Yes, of course I will. Now kiss me, you ridiculous man.” 

“Gladly.” Their kiss sent a shiver through Grantaire’s bones which had nothing to do with the chill in the air. Enjolras kissed like it was his last day on this earth, with a passion that could tear down castles and ignite bonfires. When Grantaire broke away gasping, he was cursing the rules of propriety which forbid such kissing in polite company. The world would definitely be a more pleasant place if he could escape boring conversation by searching out Enjolras and kissing him like his life depended on it. They stood together under the shelter of the nearly bare trees and enjoyed the brief respite of solitude.

At Enjolras’ small smirk, Grantaire asked, “And what on Earth could you possibly find so amusing?”

“Do you think Cosette is going to be upset that now we will be the talk of the town, not she?”

“It’s possible. However, I don’t believe that she will be as put-out as Marius.”

They snickered together under the new green growth, while the birds sang of promise and possibility, as they are wont to do in spring. Later, there would be declarations to family and friends, who would crow that they had foreseen this exact event, and would take credit for the introduction. There would be earnest congratulations, gentle teasing, and eager preparations. There would be joy, satisfaction, and love.

But at the moment, there was only them. And that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Comments and kudos, as always, give me life.


End file.
